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Chapter 8: 212 Degrees
Part 4: Sam
“What’s next?” Sam prompted Vic. There had to be something besides standing around and waiting.
Vic leveled him a long stare. “Not done yet, we are, young greenhorn,” he said in his best Yoda voice – which wasn’t very good.
Sam just glared at him, feeling his blood pressure rise by the second.
“Okay, okay, cool your jets, Harrison,” Vic chided. “Let’s go see if anyone in this neighborhood saw her leave the building, or, better yet, has a doorbell camera.”
Sam followed him out, leaving an offer to put crime scene tape across Sophie’s apartment door and keep watch over the place. He and Vic walked through the parking lot, not seeing anyone out and about close to the building. Across the street, a resident of another apartment complex stood in a skinny strip of grass with a quivering Chihuahua on the end of her pink leash.
“Evening, ma’am,” Vic greeted with far more charm than Sam thought the man possessed. “We’re looking for a missing person. Did you see anyone leaving that building in the last, oh, half hour or so?”
The woman tapped a long fake fingernail on her chin. “I seen a few, maybe.” She shrugged. Sam resisted the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but just barely.
“Yeah?” That was all Vic was going to ask? Sam expected pointed questions, pressuring her, something more than a single off-hand syllable.
“Mmhmm,” the woman replied with a prim nod. “Old guy, white hair came in not long after they left.”
“I see,” Vic drawled. Sam could feel anxiety crawling up his spine at this ridiculous conversation. Didn’t they know Sophie needed help?
“Yeah. Looked right cozy, too, excepting her face was covered. I wasn’t sure it was a girl at first, with that baggy sweatshirt, but then I saw her feet. No guy ever got feet that slender.” The woman snorted and shook her head.
Her face was covered? What in the world was going on? Sam mentally begged the woman to give every detail she could.
“Huh,” Vic shrugged. “Go figure. Was it two women?”
“Nah,” the woman laughed. “No way to hide his donut belly.”
Vic laughed along with her, and Sam suddenly understood. Vic was establishing rapport and building the woman’s comfort level. He was, at the moment, just grateful he had kept his mouth shut throughout the exchange.
“I hope he at least had some height to spread out that donut belly,” Vic commented.
“Not enough!” The woman laughed some more. “He was barely taller than the girl.”
“Poor dude,” Vic shook his head in mock commiseration. “Nothin’ worse than being a short guy.”
The woman looked him up and down, momentarily trying to gauge his seriousness. When she saw the twinkle in his eyes, she laughed again, loud and long. Sam’s patience dwindled a little further.
“I s’pose you’d know,” she murmured.
“Ain’t that the truth?” Vic grinned. “What color was her hair?”
“Dunno. Her whole head was covered. Not by her hood, though,” the woman tapped her chin again in thought. “Different color. Sweatshirt was blue, thing over her head was black. Anyway, I just figured they were playing some kinky role-play game.”
Sam ground his teeth.
“Hey, folks gotta do what they do,” Vic agreed. “How long has it been since they left? Or since the white-haired man came home?”
The woman looked at her phone. “I brought Mags out for a walk about 20 minutes ago. It was right then. She can go a long ways for having short legs.”
“Impressive little lady,” Vic complimented. “Did you see what car they got in?”
“One of them jacked up pickups. Black. Screamed macho,” she replied with a shake of her head, as if sorry for the man who drove such a vehicle.
“Thank you for your time, ma’am.”
“Y’all have a nice night,” she nodded as they left.
Vic whipped his phone out of his pocket while they walked down the street. Sam glanced over and saw him jotting down notes. When they passed in front of the next residence, Sam squinted up and saw a doorbell camera.
“Vic,” he stopped the man with a hand on his forearm and pointed to the front porch.
“Gold!” Vic cheered, jogging up the path to the front steps.
Once again, Vic displayed an incredible amount of persuasive charm, and before Sam knew what was happening, Vic had a video clip of the truck driving down the street. It was clear enough to get part of the license plate along with the make and model. As Vic was about to call down to the station with the information, his phone rang – one of the other detectives.
“Marcus, what’s up?” Vic greeted while pointing at Sam. Sam widened his eyes.
“You don’t say? What’d you learn?” Now Vic pointed to Sam’s hip, then made the symbol of a phone by his ear with thumb and pinkie. Sam finally picked up on his clues and placed a call to the dispatcher requesting information on the pickup.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vic finished his call at the same time as Sam.
“What’s up?” Sam asked immediately.
“Well, they finally got the building supervisor to look at some mugs, considering one of his residents was kidnapped,” Vic scoffed in disgust, “and wouldn’t you know, he recognizes Denise’s boyfriend.”
“Archibald?” Sam guessed.
“Nope,” Vic shook his head. “The guy from the first night Sophie met Angel – man by the name of Charlie Wic. And he has a lengthy record to go with the short last name.”
“Let me guess – drug charges?”
“Ding, ding,” Vic confirmed. “For the past 12 years.”
“Anything that ties him to Sophie’s disappearance?” Sam wanted to keep his eyes on the problem at hand.
Vic frowned. “Nothing concrete yet, but I find it interesting that he’s been flying under the radar but very busy in New Albany, his current residence, while keeping a girlfriend in Williamson. She moved here after they started dating.”
“She’s a plant?” Sam guessed. “A way to get a foothold in the community?”
“That’d be my assumption, yes. Why he would attack Angel, or have his muscle do so if Archibald is connected, that I can’t say. But I’m not ready to scratch those three off my mental list.”
Sam’s phone pinged with a message from dispatch – the car was the property of Oliver James Isolah.
“That name mean anything to you?” He showed the message to Vic.
“Nope.”
Sam sighed. “Me neither.”
“Were you hoping it would?”
“Well, yeah. I want to know who took her, where, why, and how fast I can get her back!” Sam voice climbed to a yell the longer he talked. Then he shook his head and physically took a step away from Vic, willing his fear and anger away. “Emotions in your back pocket” wasn’t really working for him today…
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost it,” he quickly apologized.
“All good,” Vic waved away Sam’s outburst. “And for the record, I want all those things, too.” He reached up to clap a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We’ll find her, Sam.”